TRAUMA PROM

[takewing]

Comments

[unlocksmith]

No.

But she's a coward if she won't!

[takewing]

Her type never care if they're seen as cowardly.

[unlocksmith]

[w-with frustration, the kind that comes with knowing you want to prevent something but not knowing how to stop it]

You will not die today!

[takewing]

[Better me than somebody else. She doesn't say that, though; not yet.]

Not by her hand.

[unlocksmith]

[he understands that distinction perfectly]

Not at all.

[takewing]

And if we can't find a way out of it within the next few minutes?

[She can't think of anything. They have no tools, there's no way out, Vanessa isn't responding to them--]

[unlocksmith]

We will!

[practically snarling that answer out, and turning away from her to pull back his fist and then slam it hard against the glass dome]

[takewing]

[The glass doesn't so much as crack! His knuckles, on the other hand, are probably smarting.]

Khoalan!

[Catching his wrist, her grip tight.]

We've tried that already!

[unlocksmith]

[They are, but he's rearing back for another punch anyway-- though she manages to catch his wrist before he hits it again]

There has to be a weak spot we missed!

[takewing]

You'd break both of your hands before you even managed to scratch the glass!

[Grabbing for his other wrist just in case.]

[unlocksmith]

[she manages to do that, and he turns to face her]

I'm not givin' up without a fight!

[takewing]

[Looking him in the eye, trying to keep her own nerves out of her expression.]

Khoalan, listen to me. If . . . There's something I need you to do for me, if we can't get out of this.

[unlocksmith]

[. . . falling silent, his gaze narrowing, because he thinks he knows exactly where this is going]

[takewing]

[. . . smiles.]

Look after Kou. Tell my mother. And stop her.

[unlocksmith]

. . .

Nalea. . .

[he can't. he can't]

[takewing]

Please. You're the only one who can.

[unlocksmith]

[thunks his head against hers, hands shaking]

Nalea--

[takewing]

[Leans into him, closing her eyes.]

. . . I know. I know.

[unlocksmith]

I can't.

I. . . can't. I can't.

[closes his eyes tightly]

[takewing]

[Gently shifts her grip from his wrists to his hands.]

You can. There is always something worth living for. Kin and clan, the open sky, winding streets you've never walked before, the click of a lock first opened, foods you've yet to taste, friends you've met to meet . . .

[unlocksmith]

None of those things are you.

[. . . this desperate, helpless note in his voice is very unfamiliar]

[takewing]

[It is, and it shreds into her heart. Tightens her grip on him, trying to keep her hand steady—]

. . . They're not. But, Khoalan, you're strong enough to walk without me, until we can meet again.

[unlocksmith]

Don't make me--

[it's so hard for him to say these words. he's never been one to beg, to cry, to let emotion overwhelm him. but the mere thought. . .]

[the mere thought that he wasn't able to protect her]

. . . Nalea, don't make me live without you.

[takewing]

You have to. You have to live.

[no no no if he's crying it's going to make her cry. Sucks in a deep breath to try to stave it off.]

Please. Promise me.

[unlocksmith]

I-- [can't, I can't-- which is an odd thing to think, when all of his instincts scream survival]

[he threads his fingers through her hair, curling them against her scalp]